Wolverine groaned. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Rogue had ambushed him. Oh, she was a sneaky one, now more than ever. The steak, the wine, the not wanting to talk, yup she definitely knew how to work him but good. Little piece of shit! He was going to bend her over his knee and spank her and not in the sexy way. Using an unsanded 2x4. He sat up and looked around. The fire pit was smoldering quietly. It was obviously late, and something just as important as Rogue was missing.
“MY BIKE!” he roared. Oh, she’d done it now. No one, but no one touched his fucking motorcycle. Not if they wanted to get keep vital organs on the inside and appendages attached by more than a few strings of sinew. Ok, it was Scooter’s motorcycle technically, but still there are some lines you just don’t cross with the Wolverine and she’d taken a flying leap over it. Fuck, the line was so far behind her it was a dot.
He barreled inside to change out of his sweatpants, pull on clean jeans and t-shirt, then stomped his boots back on and grabbed his leather jacket.
Keys, keys.
Shit, the jeep keys were on the same ring as the bike’s, so she had them. No matter, Wolverine had his own set of keys in both hands. He stalked over to the jeep and vaulted over the door, slamming into the driver’s seat. Snapping out one claw he jammed it in the ignition. Instead of a satisfactory roar of the engine the damn thing didn’t make a sound. A cricket chirped. Literally.
You did not just fucking chirp bub.
Another cricket.
Grrrrrrr!
Wolverine flung the jeep’s hood up and started rooting around.
Not good enough girlie he thought grimly, reattaching the battery connectors.
Not nearly good enough!
He tried to crank the engine again and again silence heckled him.
WHAT NOW?!
Now he was really pissed as he dove again into the engine block.
Where the hell is the alternator?!
She’d unscrewed the damn thing and hidden it. He sniffed the air and it took him a few minutes to find where she’d thrown it into the woods behind the cabin by following the oily scent. Jamming it back into place, Wolverine tried to start the jeep again and again it stubbornly refused his cursing pleas to crank.
C'mon, c'mooooon you fucking piece of American horseshit. I'm fucking buying Japanese from now on you hunk of goddamned junk if you don't staaaaaart!
Japanese it is. Hard to picture Wolverine in a Toyota Corolla, but he was a man of his word.
Now thoroughly enraged it took every ounce of self-control not to unleash the claws and rip through the hood as Wolverine flung it up once more. He took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down before he turned the car into scrap metal, and went inside to get a flashlight so he could fully inspect how much sabotage Rogue had managed. It was a lot.
Oh ho, she’s trying to kill me he thought when he found a brake line disconnected.
You first darlin.
Wolverine reattached it then went back to the electrical system to figure out why the fucking thing still wouldn’t turn over. He finally determined the spark plug wire set had been artfully dismantled so it still looked like it was okay but definitely was not. Satisfied he’d found every little trick in the engine she’d thought to throw at him, Wolverine smiled smugly when the engine finally started and he gunned it, determined to track her down.
A hundred yards down the road he realized Rogue had done an even more thorough job than he’d expected and it was so simple. A flat tire shredded with a distinctive 3 slashes. He hadn’t even noticed it during his angry flailing inside the engine block. He cursed her in every combination he could think of and invented some new ones when he discovered the she’d removed the jack. At least she hadn’t shredded the spare. Guess she thought incapacitating the jeep entirely was too much.
Thanks Rogue, that was fucking thoughtful!
I am going to kill her. Mince her into teeny, tiny, very squishy bits. Wolverine snarled and swore nonstop while struggling to lift the jeep enough to kick some logs under it to raise it up so he could change the tire.
Bite sized ones to feed to all the woodland creatures.
As he wrestled with the spare tire, Wolverine entertained himself with fantasies of holding Rogue's face underwater in the lake and laughing while she scrabbled at his arms, desperate for air.
No, not the lake. The toilet. In the men's locker room at the mansion. After the whole team's used it.
Hang her from a tree upside down, tie those fucking steaks to her, and let the bears eat her from the face up. Heh heh.
The animal inside him was also calling bloody murder, all thoughts of tying her to the bed and fucking her to death replaced with a creative usage of the fire pit and the axe as instruments of torture.
Oh, she had fucked with the Wolverine one time too many and she was going to pay.
After 30 minutes spent wrestling the jeep up enough to change the wheel, then having to chase the damn thing 50 yards b/c he’d forgotten to set the emergency brake, his head was filled with the repeated chant KILLKILLKILLKILL, and Wolverine grinned as he envisioned snapping her scrawny neck when he finally got his hands on her.
Until he ran out of gas a mile from the cabin and the jeep spluttered and died. Rogue had siphoned off the tank. That was the capper and resulted in the jeep sporting the no-doors option permanently. He stalked back to the cabin to get the spare gas canister he kept under the porch, which resulted in 20 minutes spent tracing the stink of petrol until he found it buried under some rocks near to the lake.
How fucking long was I out? A week?
He was going to pull every one of his memories, especially the ones of dirty tricks and choke holds, out of her head with several feet of adamantium and no anesthetic.
After stalking back to the jeep and dumping a couple of gallons in the tank, Wolverine was extremely paranoid the car might explode this time around. Once his jangled nerves were soothed by a noted lack of fireballs, he jammed the gas pedal to the floor and followed her scent 10 miles down the dirt track to the cabin, onto the two lane road that lead to town, somewhat relieved Rogue had taken the bike and not the jeep. She could have put the top and windows up and made her scent harder to trace.
Plus, if she had sabotaged his bike Wolverine would have hunted her to the end of her days just so he could beat hear to death with the whatever remained of the machine, ideally the handlebars so he could jam them up her...
As tempted as he was to slaughter Rogue, in truth she was merely in life threatening danger of a public ass-beating and not in genuine immediate peril of certain disembowelment, although he was sorely tempted to play cat's cradle with her guts for all the bullshit she’d just put him through.
He followed her trail to town, still wrapped in scenarios of torturing Rogue with a hot clothes iron and rock salt, before he realized he’d lost her scent. He whipped the jeep in a tight 180 in the middle of the road and backtracked until he picked it up again.
No way. No fucking way.
He shook his head and realized he hadn’t needed to rely on his sniffer to find her and should have just stuck with his gut. Where there was something gnawing at her and she couldn’t figure it out she drank, just like him. He just didn’t expect her to go to his old shithole to do it. He’d expected her to run for the border after screwing with the jeep like that, not park her saucy ass in a bar.
She’s got some nerve…and I’m going to rip every last one out of her body with pliers.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Author's Chapter Notes:
I had fun writing this, couldn't you tell?
Chapter End Notes:
Never let it be said the man is not imaginative.